CHAPTER 2
THE TEENAGE YEARS
September 1954 - July 1958
..........September 1954, saw my arrival at the Stowmarket Secondary Modern School, due to a compulsory government effort to hopefully further my education. This was the very same school my Mother had attended almost 20 years earlier. So if it was good enough for her, then it had to be good enough for me. I was growing up fast, or that’s what I thought. At least I would not have to wear those silly short trousers that most of the girls usually laughed at. I was finally promoted to the wearing of the long legged variety. My first pair was made of a very rough material that played havoc with my skin, upon reflection, I’m sure that they were made from an old Army blanket.
..........My Mother had taken me to Messer’s Gordon Ince, a gentleman’s out fitting shop located in the middle of the town. There I was measured up and made to try a pair on. However, it hardly seemed worth the effort as there was only one choice for my mother to make. Especially after being advised by the proprietor, that there was only one pair in the shop that fitted me in her price range. I do remember complaining to my Mother that they made me itch, to which she replied that I would get used to them. I never did, the material irritated me so much that on several occasions I burst out in a bright red rash on my legs that sometimes prevails to this day.
..........At one time I can remember asking her if she could stitch a smooth lining in them for me. She did not go that far, but as an experiment she tried tacking in one of my old pyjama bottoms. However, it was not successful and I was even more worried that friends would find out and make fun of me. Anyway, I knew I would have to get used to them one way or another because there was just no alternative. Even now, I cannot wear anything rough, close up against my skin.
..........When I first attended this higher level of education I felt so much bigger, although I don’t know why. I even imagined that I was one of the top guns attending the school. Unfortunately, I was soon to be brought down to size, when I realised that there were even bigger boys enrolled here. Especially when it came to the second, third and fourth year boys, they were just utter bullies through and through. Some of which took full advantage of the senior position they held within the schools pecking order.
..........The school was located at the opposite end of town from where I lived near Combs Ford. A distance of about a mile and a half away and with no pocket money for transport, I had to walk those three miles every day. Mind you, it was a good way to keep fit, or so my Father always told me, whenever I tried to extract a bus fare from him.The reason I attended this school was because I had failed what was known at the time as the Eleven plus Exam. This exam was supposedly designed to sort out the brainy students from the not so brainy ones. The brainy half would go to the local Grammar School, while the other less brainy and unfortunate half would go to the Secondary Modern. It was more like a two tier system, the haves and the have not’s, and not only in the brain department, but also in the pocket. While today in this politically correct crazy society in which we all live, it would more than likely be called discriminatory. However, in those days it was all controlled by the government of the day and the local councils. We all know that Governments are never wrong, I dread to think what would have been splashed across the newspaper front page if it were controlled by the people and we acted in that way.
..........It always seemed strange to me, how all the local shopkeepers and business owners children ended up going to the Grammar School, no matter how brainy they were or were not. While the lesser, sometimes unfortunate citizens children, all ended up at the Secondary Modern School. It was a well-known fact that it cost a considerable amount of money for a Grammar school uniform and books. While at the Secondary Modern, we did not have to wear a full uniform, just a cheap blazer and tie. However, it was still a large amounted of money for some of the families to pay out. When I say cheap blazer I really do mean cheap. It was made up of only one layer of material that could at best be described as dyed sacking. This became evident after only a few months wear, as the dye wore off and some of the edging started to fray. The difference was also evident when you placed the two jackets side by side, because the Grammar School one was lined and padded, with what can only be described as a silk type of material. Maybe that’s the material that should have lined my long legged trousers. However, I’m not complaining about myself having to attend the Secondary Modern School, no that decision was correct, as I was lacking in the brain department for several years to come. I believe one of my main problems was my lack of concentration, I was always dreaming of what I could be doing if I was not at school. Some of my old school friends have told me that they were the best days of their lives, so I guess they must have enjoyed what they were doing. Personally I have enjoyed most of my life since leaving school.
..........The discipline at the school stands out to me as being quite harsh at times and very strict. You never spoke out of turn or answered back. At that time the Headmaster was Mr Wilmot. Earlier my Mother had looked after his wife, when one of their children was born. Unfortunately, that was to carry no favours for me during my stay. I always thought that Mr Wilmot resembled the British film star Christopher Lee, who later became famous staring in a string of horror movies, made by Hammer Films.
..........During my very first day, while I was trying to make friends with everybody in my new class known as 1B, I was sat beside Derrick Hayward, just in front of Kevin Boyce and Anthony Cracknell. We were all talking when we should have been listening, I think we were discussing the new girls that had suddenly appeared all around us. Anyway, the teacher Mr Underwood was not impressed, as he had ordered us not to talk. All four of us were hauled out of our seats and paraded in front of the class. There we were given the cane across the open flat palms of both our hands. When I call it a cane that is not quite accurate, it was actually the leg from a wooden chair. I must say it was very painful as my hands became swollen and turned a dark blue. It did not stop me talking, but it sure as hell made me craftier, in order that I would never be caught again, however I was not successful at that either. I also had to hide my swollen hands from my parents just in case they asked me how it happened. Because I might have received another one from my Father if he had known that I was playing up during school lessons.
..........The school had system known as houses, each with its own colour. Mine was Priestly which was Yellow, then there was Constable which was Blue, Townsend was Green and Wolsey was Red. Whatever we accomplished in schoolwork or on the sports field, we would be awarded points for our house. These were all added up in July the end of the school year, and just before the summer holidays. The winning house was then presented with a cup, plus a few other privileges of one type or another that I just can’t remember.
I cannot even remember all of the teachers at that time, but this is a sample that comes to mind.Mr Dicks. Art. (Painting & drawing)
Mr Underwood. Art. (Acting)
Mrs Kerry . Music. (Singing & Playing Instruments)
Mrs Piper. Dancing.
Mrs Slack. English.
Mr Howell. Metal Work. “And howl you would, if he caned you”
Mr Stuart. Wood Work. “Nickname Sawdust”
Mr Ackers. Maths, English. (Librarian)
Mr Wilmot. Headmaster.
Mr Blowers. Technical Drawing.
Mr Bowers. Maths, English.
Mr Walker. Science.
Mr Wilson. English...........During those early days I never liked singing very much, and could not understand why we had to keep singing “Fara Jaque” repeatedly over and over again, it just bored the pants off of me. I hated it, so I spent most of the time talking during lessons and generally just playing around trying to be the funny guy and upsetting the other students, to the dislike of our teacher Miss Kerry. I would even sing the wrong notes on purpose, claiming the problem was my age. You know voice changing, lumps dropping and all that so called puberty stuff. However, once I did become the hero in front of the class, when Miss Kerry (who was young and very attractive) was trying to sing. She got something stuck in her throat and started to choke quite badly. So I jumped up making fun and cracking the usual one liners, like “even I can sing better than that Miss”, or “Was it a high C you were trying to obtain there, or maybe it a low Z”. Anyway, I raced out of the class room to fetch her some water in an old jam jar I found in the girls cloakroom. I thought that would cause a laugh, to which she was thankful. I told her not to thank me, but that she could reward me by not asking me to sing a solo again. To this I got a rapturous applause and cheer from the class. Such applause would have been most welcome a few later years when I performed live on stage on the odd occasion.
..........After school I started spending a lot more time with Clive Barnard, he introduced me to fishing although I never did get too deep into the sport. We would go to the river Orwell and find a spot somewhere along a four-mile stretch from Finborough to the I.C.I Factory. Clive loved his fishing, and was always showing me the ropes and tricks that he had learnt, having picked it up from his brothers Colin and Lionel. Most evenings before we left the river, we would leave a night line in the water. There was plenty of fish around in those days, Roach, Pike and Eels, although I never ate one, however Clive and his family loved them. Although I have to admit that my Mother was never keen to clean and gut them ready for cooking. Mum was more the type of person who would rather buy them ready cleaned from the fishmonger, and even cooked whenever possible, wrapped in newspaper along with a few chips.
..........Most Saturday mornings we would roam around a new building site that had just commenced construction along Combs Lane and was known as Aldiss Avenue. Our favourite pass time was playing amongst the half built houses and swinging around on the scaffolding that surrounded them. We would also try to collect up all of the old Corona Lemonade drink bottles, occasionally pinching them from the building workers. We would then return them to the newspaper shop at Combs Ford and cashed them in, receiving the handsome reward of three pence for each bottle and that would buy us an ice cream or a trip to the cinema.
..........Clive was also introduced me to smoking. At every opportunity he would pinch some of his Father's tobacco. However, he could never manage to get the cigarette papers to roll the tobacco in. Therefore, we would have to improvise and roll it up in strips of toilet paper. However, in those days the only toilet paper our parents purchased had a brand name of Izel. It was not what today you might describe as a good toilet paper as having a good absorbent quality about it. This stuff was more like grease proof paper and all it achieved was to smear the waste product around.
..........Because of the shiny surface of the paper, it meant that we would have to keep re-lick the paper after every single puff, because our spit that we were using as glue kept drying out due to the heat inside the cigarette. We also did a lot of coughing in those days, not knowing that it was pipe tobacco that Clive was stealing. Several years later I found out that you do not make cigarettes from pipe tobacco, as it burns the back of your throat. I did not take up smoking on a regular basis at that time, but I believe Clive did. However, I was to become hooked a couple of years later just before leaving school.
..........Clive and I would spend a lot of time sitting on the park bench in front of the red telephone box that was positioned just opposite his house on Poplar Hill. When we were not playing we were always talking and scheming something. Several times we spoke about immigrating to Australia as it only cost ten pounds in those days and all travel was by sea. One day he brought out a picture from a National Geographic Magazine to show me of an American Army camp just North of Cairns in North Queensland. What a beautiful place I thought. It being positioned by the sea, which was brilliant bright blue in colour While all around were beautiful sandy beaches. That was the day I made up my mind, that one day I would visit the place. In fact I was forever planning to run away to Australia, an idea that lasted for almost thirty years. When you consider that in those days only people in the Royal or Merchant Navy’s had the opportunity to visit such exotic locations, I was dreaming of the impossible.
..........We started playing with a local gang of boys from the Jubilee Avenue area, these boys played very rough. I remember one day we all went to the local woods and split into two gangs, one to chase the other. We all cut spears from the hedge row and had only one rule that there would be no points on the spears. The next thing I remembered was seeing Dinky Chambers, sitting up in a large oak tree sharpening a point on the end of his spear. He then stood up and after giving the usual very loud Tarzan yell, he threw his spear at another guy, who gave a terrible scream as the projectile found its mark. The spear went right through the calf muscle of his left leg, so much for no points on spears.
..........This also reminds me of another time when we used to make a small dart from a cane, it being about two feet long. A point was on one end and to assist its flight path a cigarette card cut into the shape of a feather was fixed in to the other end, to assist in its guidance. To throw it, a piece of string would be wound around the cane a couple of times by the card flight, it would then run along the shaft to be held down by your thumb of your throwing hand near the pointed area. You would launch the dart by throwing it up into the air, while maintaining a hold of the string. I think you could say that it was launched in almost the same way as the aboriginal in Australia used to launch their spears. Anyway on this particular day, we were all throwing these things at each other.
..........If you were lucky you would be able see where your dart was going and from where the enemies was coming from. Cedric Lafflin saw one coming at him, in a vain effort to get out of its flight path, he lowered his body thinking it was going to pass over him, while still watching were the dart was going. However, it was all to no avail, as it hit him right in the eye, going in about two inches. Poor Cedric he ran all the way home with this thing sticking out of his eye. Unfortunately and sadly, he lost the eye, as we all believed he would. Apparently the dart had stopped just short of his brain. Nobody knew who threw that dart, which was just as well because we all felt guilty that day. It could have been thrown by anybody, so it would not have been fair to blame one particular individual. Sadly a few years later I learnt that Cedrick was killed at Combs Ford near the Magpie Public house. When a car collided with him, while he was riding his motor bike. Cedrick was a well liked guy in the area who got on with everybody and I’m sure he was sadly missed by all.
..........While on another occasion, we once again split into two gangs. Only this time we were wearing leather jackets and carrying air rifles. This time we were actually shooting at each other. One guy got a slug (pellet) right through the lobe of his right ear, another got one through the bottom part of his nose. While yet a third person got one up under his scalp, travelling up into the back of his head and lodging fast. All this and now as a grandparent here I am worrying about my kids playing rough today, its kids stuff to what we got up to. I sometimes wonder how I ever survived with my accident-prone record.
..........With great excitement, I started my very first job, by becoming a local newspaper delivery boy. For which I received the handsome sum of five shillings and six pence a week. My paper round consisted of a long trek out to the "Firs" by the I.C.I factory entrance along Needham Road and back around the Combs Ford shopping area. I then had to continue up Combs Lane and into Jubilee Avenue, around Valley View Road into Thorny View and finally home. It was about now that I decided that I needed a bike to assist with the paper round and to get me to school. So with a little help from my Father, along with every penny I had earned so far from my paper round, I purchased my very first bicycle. I think it cost me around ₤11. It was a green racer, complete with drop down racing handlebars and the latest multi shift three speed gear change, it being the latest enervation at that time. I believe it was before the derailleur gear change system came out.
..........My boss, who owned the Ford Newspaper Shop, was very nice person to work for, although I cannot remember his name. Sometimes I would help them out in the shop, while we awaited the delivery of the papers from Durant’s Newspaper shop in the middle of the Stowmarket High Street to arrive in the mornings. I would leave my house at 5.45am and return home by about 7.45am, before having to rush off to school. I under took this routine for nearly four years, never complaining once as I actually enjoyed it. I have always felt that it was this early morning apprenticeship that helped me later in life to always be on time for work. It also taught me to look after my money. Saturday mornings I had to collect the paper money from my customers. This usually ended up with me having a bag full of small change and so it was easy to make mistakes. When we returned to the paper shop it was all counted and if it was short I had to make the money up out of my own wage. However, one particular time I was over and the person in the shop doing the counting took the extra and kept it. When I told Dad he was furious and from then on he counted it before I went back to the shop. If I was over, he placed it in a tin so we could make it up the times I was short. However, I did not get it wrong on many occasions. This was a good grounding for me especially for later in life, not to trust anybody.
..........Auntie Joan and Uncle John moved into a house up near the Secondary Modern School in Kent Road. When Diane there first daughter was born my Mother helped to look after Auntie Joan, so I spent a lot of time at their house for meals etc. Diane was the first member of the family that I can remember being born and being in that same house at the time, somehow I feel very close to Diane. However, we have not seen much of each other over the past forty years. When we do meet, I am immediately at ease in her company, we seem to hit it off well together and we still keep in touch with the occasional Christmas card. However, it is different with her sister Jenny, I cannot remember her being born and whenever we meet, I feel like a stranger in her company, all rather funny because I do not know why. Years later, I met up with Diane while I was playing with the “Jim West and the Texans” band. At the time we were performing at the R.A.F Wattisham camp. We had not met for nearly twelve years, but immediately we were talking just like old friends who visited each other on a daily basis.
..........At school, one of the girls Barbara was attending the next class up from me and became my very first serious steady girl friend. We used to pass each other love notes through the iron fence that surrounded the school yard as she walked past heading for the girl’s entrance into the playground. We would meet each other occasionally at the Regal Cinema on Saturday afternoons. Unfortunately, it did not last too long, but a few years later, I ended up working with her Mother, while at the 3 in 1 factory. Where she was employed as a supervisor over the female employees, but that's another story.
..........Pinching apples was known as scrumping. Most youngsters would have done it at sometime or other in their delinquent childhood. When a gang set upon somebody’s orchard or lone apple tree, it was like watching a plague of locust descending from the heavens. They would strip a tree bare of all its fruit within 5 minutes and usually half the branches would also be torn down in the frenzy. It was crazy, every single apple would be taken red ones, green ones, big ones and even tiny little ones. The gang would act like a frenzy of sharks honing in on the kill. I’m thinking that it was the thought of being caught that it was over in just a few moments, believing that the longer we were on the scene the more chance there was that we would get caught. However, half the apples would be thrown away because they would not be fit to eat. Others would have just one bite taken out of them, before being thrown at somebody or something.
..........When gathering this apple harvest we would store them down the front of our shirts and so we ended up walking around like pregnant ladies. Nobody bothered to stand guard while the raid took place, we would just rush in and out. On one occasion while I was with a few boys that included Peter and Ray, we targeted the Stowmarket Secondary Modern School gardens. I guess we were just bored while we awaited our girl friends to finish night school. Anyway, Ray and I were gathering a few of the lower hanging apples. Peter had climbed up into the higher branches of the tree. Suddenly we were aware of somebody approaching us in the dark. Everybody scattered and Peter was in such a hurry coming down through the branches, that his rain coat got caught up. It was completely torn off his back and left hanging in the tree. At least we were not caught. Later that night Peter had to return to the scene of the crime to retrieve his raincoat, minus one sleeve that had been torn off in his rush to get away. What’s the old saying “An apple a day keeps the doctor away”, is that because of the running we under took while trying to escape from our would-be captors, or was it because of the fruit we were consuming. Must admit I did not have too many stomach-aches. Judging by the amount that I ate I must have been very lucky. Oh as a foot note the apples in the School gardens were not even eating apples, later we found out they were of the cooking variety.
..........Another craze for the Valley View gang turned out to be fishing. Like I said earlier, Clive Barnard had introduced me to fishing, but I had never owned a rod or any tackle. I had always just gone along with Clive to watch. It was a well known fact at that time, that it was easier to catch fish at night, so occasionally we would fish in to the evening, but we were usually home by 8pm.
..........Over a period of time, more and more local guys took up the sport and so more and more tagged along with us. A big topic of conversation amongst us was what it would be great if we were all able to fish through the night. It being a subject we had all tried to talk our parents into at one time or another, but up till then with little success. So when it was suggested by the Valley View mob that we go fishing all night at Lake Bossmere a unanimous yes was to be heard, providing our parents let us go. To our amazement we all got the all clear, once our parents knew the whole gang was going. I like to think that each parent believed that if the other parents thought it okay, then it would be okay.
..........Lake Bossmere was situated on the outskirts of Needham Market a 4-mile bus ride from Stowmarket. The lake had a bad reputation of weird stories and history. In the past, a few people had drowned while fishing from its banks. During the war, some Italian prisoners of war had been stationed near by working on the land. The story goes that one day four went missing never to be seen again, so everybody assumed they had drowned in the lake, don’t suppose it occurred to them that they might have escaped and possibly made their way back home to Italy. There was also another rumour going around that the locals had killed them after they were discovered flirting with the local girls.
..........Then there was the story of the lake's depth, nobody seemed to know where the bottom was, and so it was known as a bottomless pit. I suppose it was like all lakes it had a very muddy bottom. Anybody falling in would become stuck into the mud and gradually sink deeper and deeper until they finally disappeared and drowned. Anyway, a gang of about 15 of us took a bus ride to Needham Market. The gang consisted of Terry and Rodney Mayes, Brian Shaw, Ray and Brian Saunders, Kevin Boyce, David and Neville Taylor, Aubrey Morley, Clive Barnard and Me, plus a few more who I can’t remember. By about 4pm in the afternoon we had all arrived at the Lake, after a long walk from the Swan Public house bus stop. So we paired up and found a spot to settle down for the night. Needless to say, there was a lot of horseplay and skylarking going on. Upon reflection, it was stupid knowing the lakes history. Then as it got dark, we all settled down to try to catch a few fish which was after all why we had come to this spot. During the night the occasional scream or shout could be heard. Then there was the occasional stone being thrown across the water at each other, all in an effort to try and scare the fish away from each other’s guarded location. Brian Saunders did in fact fall in, lucky it was shallow where he was and his only injury was to his pride accompanied by a pair of wet feet. I believe I was paired up with Terry Mayes, although I’m not really sure.
..........As the sun came up casting its first beam of light across the lake, we all packed up our gear and met at the pathway leading from the main road to the lake. I don’t think I need tell you that nobody caught a single fish that night and you do not have to be a rocket scientist to work out why, with all the skylarking going on through most of the night. However, we all had many tales to tell and joke's to crack, as we started our long trek back to the Needham Market bus stop. Our route took us past a very large orchard, I believe it was opposite the old Bossmere Mill. The usual frenzy took place with only a couple of guys staying on the roadway while the rest of us gathered our breakfast. The gathering only lasted a few minutes afraid we might miss our bus connection. Then as we continued walking down the road eating and throwing apples everywhere. Suddenly from around a corner, about 400 or 500 yards up ahead appeared the local Bobby (Policeman) on his pushbike. So you can imagine the speed at which everybody started discarding their hoard of apples, as the Bobby slowly approached us. I had only stuffed a couple of apples into my pockets so I soon dumped those and continued to finish eating the one I still had in my hand. We were very cocky in those days or maybe I should use the word blatant.
..........Most of us were carrying all of our fishing tackle gear in shopping bags that had been supplied by our parents. As the Bobby got off his bike and asked us all to stop and wait as he wanted to talk to us. I still had an apple core left in my hand and was wondering where I could dump it. It just happened that Terry Mayes was standing in front of me. Now Terry had not been into the orchard and knowing Terry like I did, I just knew he would soon blurt out his innocence to all who wanted to listen. In his right hand was his open topped shopping bag, without him knowing I gently placed my apple core right on the top of his belongings in the bag. I then pushed my way to the back of the crowd to await further developments.
..........The Bobby said he had received a telephone call about a gang of boys raiding the local orchard. To which 15 boys all in unison replied, “Weren’t us”. So the Bobby told us that he wished to search our bags. Terry, as I had suspected was the first to push forward, open his shopping bag to expose the top of his belongings. “Here you can see I haven’t got any apples”, he blurted out. Everybody including the Bobby all looked down and there on top of his bag laid an apple core. At first there was a dead hush and then some of us started to chuckle, neither Terry nor the Bobby were amused. Anyway, all our bags were then searched and as you can guess, nothing was found. The Bobby took our names down in his little black notebook and sent us on our merry way to catch the bus. Leaving us all believing that Terry would be hearing more about the incident, leaving us all laughing and pulling his leg. We had plenty of time to do this as it took almost a further hour to reach the Chequers Public house bus stop. I am happy to report that we never heard anything more about the incident. However, every time I drove past that orchard in later years. I always had a chuckle at Terry’s expense. “Here you can see I haven’t got any apples,” well he didn’t did he, and that was the core of the complaint.
..........We used to get up to all sorts of pranks and tricks, and I’m sure it’s a stage that all young children go through at some time. The dares and the run from danger, the chance of getting away with something, all helps to get the adrenalin flowing through the body. Door knocking fell in this category, just knock on a door and run like hell. By this time I’m sure most of the locals in our area were getting fed up with our persistence, especially as we would hit the same houses several nights in a row and sometimes even twice a night.
..........One night we did a raid on a house in Thorny View, three of us walked up to the door, then as one of us was about to rattle the knocker, the door suddenly flew open and the man of the house was standing there. We turned and fled at full speed as fast as we could go, only to realise that we still had this guy directly on our tail and not only that, he was rapidly gaining on us. I was wearing wellington boots at the time and in my haste to get away, these boots actually became loose on my feet, and finally came off. I remembered them flying into a ditch somewhere, do not ask me how, but somehow we lost this guy who desperately trying to catch us. If he was out of breath, let me tell you I thought I was dying. We were all out of breath to such an extent that nobody could speak for at least five minutes. We then spent the next twenty minutes in the dark trying to find my lost wellington boots, because I dare not go home without them. Luckily I found them in the shallow ditch in front of David and Neville Taylors house. However, this little episode did not deter us from door knocking. Knowing we had got away with it only spurred us on for more of the same.
..........Another time we tied a piece of string very low (ankle high) across the gateposts of our next victim, and then I knocked on the door and ran, carefully stepping over the string line as I ran out the gate. I managed to get away nice and clean from the occupant who was in full flight behind me. However, as the house occupant came hurtling down the path behind me, he tripped on the string and flew like Superman fifteen or so feet across the road, landing on his stomach and sliding across the loose stones. Coming to a stop on a small bank where he found himself staring into the faces of the other four members of the gang. Who were all lying behind a bank on the other side of the path to witness the result of our little escapade. The guys face was covered in blood as he ending up just a couple of feet away from the gang, staring into each other’s eyes. They were up and away in the flick of a finger and me, well I was long gone. Because of his wounds, I do not think the house occupant felt like chasing after us that day. We also steered clear of his house for months after that little episode. However, I did hear he was very sore for a couple of days. Whenever I saw him in the street, I would give him a wide berth and try not to make eye contact with him. A standing joke at the time was, “Did you see him fly and he wasn’t even wearing a Superman cape”. I think later it was shortened and he attracted the name of “Superman”.
..........November 5th Guy Fawkes Night was always a lot of fun. Our gang would build a large bonfire and spend weeks collecting rubbish for it. We would also stage raids on the neighbouring gang’s bonfires and pinch half of their material to make ours look bigger. I can remember a gang of us dragging loads of very large branches from the Hillside Bonfire site all the way back to our site that was positioned in a small area within the Valley View housing estate, where the swings were erected. By my reckoning the branches must have added up to at least a couple of complete very large trees. Then of course we would have to post sentries to guard against a reprise raid upon our bonfire from the Hillside mob or possible from the dreaded Jubilee Avenue mob. They were the big worry as their gang was made up of older and bigger members, who were to be feared at all times. The lower Hillside gang was also another mob to stay clear of. These were all areas you visited when in large numbers just in case they came after you.
..........On bonfire night, we would make our own fun around the large fire, throwing fireworks everywhere and generally mucking around. Later as the night progressed we would stalk the streets throwing fireworks at every person or anything we came across.
..........At that time we were also playing around with carbide gas. During the Second World War the country had experienced all types of shortages and so the lights on our bicycles and vehicles had all used carbide gas to power them. During this particular Guy Fawkes time we bought some carbide from the bicycle shop at Combs Ford, run by Mr Chambers. When water is added to carbide it creates a gas and when lit in a confined space it goes off with a very loud bang. So due to our experimenting with the mixture the bangs would get louder and louder. On this particular occasion we placed some carbide in an old treacle tin and banged the lid on tight with a hammer. We had added a pipe that passed through a hole in the lid so that we could pour a small amount of water in and onto the carbide. A cork was then placed in the end of the pipe. Unfortunately, we waited a little too long, when I finally removed the cork and lit a match in front of the pipe there was one almighty bang. The tin split open and jumped up into the air with great force and the jagged edge hit Ray Saunders on the cheek. It left a very long gash just below his eye, once again he was lucky. However I wasn’t so lucky, because once again Ray’s older brother Brian came after me for injuring him. That was another hiding I received from Brian and I thought Ray was supposed to be my best friend. However, it was all very serious and I think I got away quite lightly over the whole incident. Unfortunately, for Ray it left him badly scarred on his cheek. Now we both had scars on our faces, but we still kept messing around with each other.
..........We also found more enjoyable ways of using the carbide, our new found secret weapon. When placed in school ink wells and after it had finished bubbling the mixture would allow you to write with it, but when it dried out on the paper the print would disappear, so we called it invisible ink.
..........This particular Guy Fawkes event was also the year my Father became very ill and was confined to bed, so he could not come looking for me at night to get me in for bed, nine o'clock being my dead line. A hiding I would receive if I was ever late. However, now that Dad was confined to his bed, this year I stayed out until 2am in the morning, eventually going home because I was feeling tired and actually wanted to go to bed.
..........But before I went home we all ended up around the ashes of the Valley View bonfire cooking potatoes to eat. A couple of the gang had their hands burnt that year due to fireworks going off before they had successfully thrown them away, but nothing too serious. We had also heard of Mr Fletcher (used to work at the Regal Cinema) from Jubilee Avenue, who lost an eye that night. It was all very sad but could have so easily been avoided. He had set a rocket up in a milk bottle and thinking it had gone out, he went back to re-light it, but as he bent over it suddenly went off and hit him in the eye. I guess from that day I learnt to never look straight down at a fire work especially a rocket and to always approach it low down and from one side.
..........From this night on I stayed out till whatever time I choose, Dad being too ill and spending a lot of time in bed to come looking for me. Although at the time I was never told what he was suffering from. Later, Mother and I had to go to the Stowmarket clinic in Violet hill for checkups, but we were both given the all clear of whatever it was. I believe that this early problem, led to his health problems that developed later in life, when he underwent major surgery at Adenbrooks Hospital near Cambridge. I also believe that it was the vast amount of tablets that he took to relieve this earlier complaint, that helped destroyed his kidneys. Later it was discovered that he had a cyst on one and a stone on the other.
..........1955 was another bad winter or so our parents told us. However, for us boys it was a blessing in disguise as it delivered a good covering of snow for us to play in, resulting in many snowball fights. Not to mention the ceremonial re-discovering of our sledges that had been thrown to the back of the garden shed the previous winter. When I think about it, a lot of work went into their design as we all tried to outdo each other. I believe that the biggest innovation was when the Taylor brothers, after a little help from their Father, turned up with thin strips of metal fixed to the bottom of the runners under the sledge. The Mayes brothers turned up with a two seater, they even had handles attached either side so that the pusher could hold on, as he pushed it forward. Up until then if two people were on board the pusher had to push the shoulders of the passenger who was already in a sitting position on the back.
..........During this time Dad was still working by the I.C.I and every January the factory would throw a party for all of its employee's children. I think Dad had to contribute a little money towards the cost and that it was deducted from his wage. The party would be held in the staff canteen, where we were treated to a meal with lots of cream cakes, ice cream and lemonade. Then after the meal, the tables were cleared away and there would be many games played. All followed up by a visit from a very friendly fat red faced Father Christmas. I always remember him standing up on the stage in front of the drawn curtains and placing his hands behind his back. He would then pull out a present for each one of us in turn, as we paraded up one side of the stage, past him and off the other side. What I could not work out was how our names were on each present. I did not realise that there was an army of people behind the curtains assisting the old man with the white beard. I think this was the last year I attended those parties, as it was only for children up to the age of twelve years.
..........February and Auntie Dorothy and Uncle Brian came to stay with us at Poplar Hill, while Cousin Andrew was born. My first words upon seeing Andrew was that he looked like Dinky Cook, a reference to a young lady in the town (now a regular family joke). These words have come back and haunted me repeatedly ever since. Maureen or Dinky as she was pleasantly known by her friends was a very large girl who lived in Stowmarket, up near the railway station. Later I would befriend her when I left school and went to work for the same company where she was working. She turned out to be nice person with heart of gold to go with it.
..........Around the age twelve I joined the Boys Brigade, the main reason being so that I could be with my friend Clive Barnard. Clive was already a member having joined the year before. It was also somewhere to go at nights, somewhere to just fool around and play. On Wednesdays we leant how to march and parade around while Thursdays was PT night, (Physical Training). While occasionally on Sundays and in full uniform, we would march to the newly re-constructed Stowmarket Congregational Church, behind the much liked Boys Brigade Brass Band. In addition, during the poppy day celebration held in November, we would march to the Memorial gates on the Recreation ground. After which a short service would be held for those who had sacrificed their lives during two world wars. As we marched you could not help falling into step behind that band. The way that big bass drum boomed out was very infectious. I would march all day if they had let me. I did not like the church services, not being a very religious person. But once the service was over we would all march back to our headquarters at the bottom of Combs Ford. I defy anybody who says they cannot drop into step behind a marching band, it is so infectious and easy to do. Incidentally, the guy playing the big bass drum was Raymond Taylor. Upon leaving school and starting my first job, I was to work alongside Raymond and we became very good friends.
..........Clive loved that band and always wanted to play a kettledrum or side drum as they are sometimes called. I guess he got it from his brother Colin Barnard, who was a drummer in a local dance band, but for the life of me, I cannot remember the band’s name.
..........My Mum and Dad would go to the Regal Cinema (known as the pictures or flicks in those days) a couple of times a week and leave me at home on my own. My only source of entertainment for the evening was the radio and I loved it. I grew up listening too many of the popular sounds of the radio during the fifties and I still get a lump in my throat today when I hear songs or names of that era. Programmes like “Educating Archie”, “Around The Horn”, ”Hancock’s Half Hour”, ”In Town Tonight” to name but a few of the many. Songs like “She Wears Red Feathers” by Guy Mitchell, “How Much Is That Doggie In The Window” by Lita Roza, “Answer Me” by David Whitfield, “This Old House” by Rosemary Clooney, The Stargazers, Dickie Valentine, Eddie Calvert, the list could go on and on.
..........At that time we had no record player, but even if we had, the records of the time were all designed to attract the older generation. However, it was all about to change and in doing so, it would ruffle a few feathers of the so-called established music moguls in the country. At that time it was also virtually impossible to obtain American records in the UK, which was why we had to rely on substandard English versions of the original American hits. The Musician’s Union of that time had a stranglehold on what the radio stations were allowed to play and to what proportion of overseas content, was allowed to be slotted in between the local live and recorded music.
..........It was around this time that I attempted to write my first two books. During my education, we all had to attend religious instruction as a subject. It was while I was attending this class and under strict orders from the teacher, that I wrote one short book called the Holy Land. Although, I have to own up to getting one of my friends to write some of it and another to draw the pictures, as I was struggling to learn the basics of reading and writing. It was also a time when for some reason the education department as an experiment wanted all children at that time to learn how to write in what they described as the Italic style. The idea was further complication four years later, when the experiment was scrapped, leaving me completely mixed up on what to do next. Although I have an idea that the main reason the Italic style was abandoned, is because you require I special nib on your pen and you also need a bottle of ink. This was at a time when ball point pens were starting to appear everywhere, and there is no way you can write in the Italic style with a ball point pen.
..........I sometimes think it was one of the reasons why I ended up leaving the education system without the basic skills of being able to read or write. I have to admit that I was a very slow leaner and that the teachers of the day concentrated on the brighter pupils and guys like me were left behind, badly. I have to also own up to not being interested in learning and never enjoyed my time spend in the education system, in fact to be honest I hated it, which I might have mentioned before.
..........The second story I was ordered to write was called, Smugglers at the Ferry. This I based on the Felixstowe Ferry, which I found very hard, as I had never visited the area, let alone seen a ferry in real life or knew what it did and how it all worked. I struggled to get a story together being totally out of my depth. However, I ended up with a lot of praise for the drawings I added on the bottom of each page. Unfortunately, I must also once again own up, because I did not even draw them. Barney a school friend from Great Finborough did them for me. Sorry but I cannot remember his surname. I still have both books and think the world of them, even though they are very short and full of red ink correction marks by the teacher. I never wrote another book until I was forty years of age. And that project was my way of trying to teach myself to read and write, something I should have learnt whilst at school, and yes I’m still learning with a long way still to go.
..........Mum and Dad bought an old upright piano and it was set up in the front room or parlour as they were sometimes known. From day one Dad had nothing to do with it, although I strongly believe it was because he was not musically minded. I also believe that Dad thought that I was just going to sit on it and play some sort of concerto without any training. There was never any talk of sending me for lessons as my parents could not afford it. In fact I believe it never entered their heads that you needed lessons in order to play. In those days I’m sure it was just a type of status symbol thing, because at the time everybody talked about have one in their front room.
I tried my hardest to learn, spending a lot of time trying to work it all out. I even convinced myself that it couldn’t be that hard to learn. How wrong I was. It turned out to be harder than we had all imagined. Eventually Mum tried her hand after purchasing some sheets of music, but they were of no use, as neither of us could read music. However, she came up with a brilliant idea that just might help. A friend where she worked told her how to work out a scale and even after she took the time to write the actual notes in pencil on every single white key, it still did not help me. I do not know what the problem was, but for some reason I could not get a grasp of it. Mind you, my heart was not in it and I hated the hours and hours of constant practice, going up and down the scales, it was so boring and to me a total waste of time. Knowing that it was my Mother teaching me, I guess I knew that I could get away with not practising and to finally giving it up altogether. However, most other children of that era were forced into keeping up their lessons because their parents had invested money by hiring a tutor. Somehow, it was just not me, although with that wonderful thing known as hindsight, if she had taught me how to play Rock n Roll I think I would have picked it up overnight. In those days the keyboard was not a swinging instrument or sex symbol, so who wanted to play it. Mind you, at that time I had not heard of artists like Jerry Lee Lewis and Little Richard, otherwise I’m sure things might have turned out very different for me.
..........It is funny that I have turned out to be musically minded, while the rest of the family is not. I think that out of Mum and Dad’s family, other than myself, there is only one other musical person and that is my Father’s brother Eric who lived in Warrington. He was brilliant on the keyboards, years earlier he had played many of the pubs and clubs in the Lancashire and Cheshire area and had attracted a large following. I’m sure his name and style of music is still remembered to this day.
..........I was more of a day dreamer, always imagining I was involved in news stories, pop concerts, book hero’s, films, you name it I had a dream about it. In addition, I would always change the ending to suit me. Yes, I was always the hero, but in real life, I was more like the looser. Nevertheless, I got through it all and while looking back at what I have achieved, I guess, I cannot complain too much. What is the old saying, “I would not changed a thing”, well there are a few little things that I would like to change, but I am not telling you what they are, I will leave you guessing. Perhaps I will turn it into a chapter at the end of this story, so keep on reading!
..........However, when it came to the guitar that was different, most of the latest so called up-and-coming stars of the time were all playing them. If I was going to emulate them, a guitar was going to be a necessity. I became very frustrated with my Mother’s constant answer of “No”, as I pleaded with her to buy me one. Unfortunately, she was having nothing to do with it and kept reminding me at every opportunity that it would simply be a waste of money, as it was just a passing craze and that it would be dead in a couple of years.
..........I remember being at the Stowmarket swimming pool one day when Maureen Cook and a friend brought along a portable radio, the first one I had ever seen one. Once she had tuned it on to a station we were all treated to live music while we were out of the house, which was also a first time for me. However, it was the music that came out of its speaker that grabbed our imaginations, sounding unlike anything we had ever heard before. For some unknown reason we could not contain ourselves and we all launched into some sort of jitterbug frenzy, trying to dance to it by the side of the pool. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but it sure as hell felt good. What I also did not realise was that we were listening to the sound of Elvis Presley singing “Heart Break Hotel”. It was just the way the song started that caught my imagination, “Well Since My Baby Left Me”. How could you ever forget those magical words. This was the very first time that I ever heard Elvis and to what later became known as Rock n Roll music and it was to leave an everlasting effect on my life forever.
..........As the radio continued to pump out pop music, everybody sat around, tapping the seats or anything they could lay their hands on. Some were just talking about all the little snippets of information that they had managed to get their hands on about Elvis. Until that day, not only did I not know what Elvis sounded like, but I had no idea as to what he looked like. However, that was all about to change as Maureen, handed me a magazine with a coloured picture on its front cover of the man himself. The first thing that caught my eye was the bright flashy colour of his shirt, it being deep claret red and black cross stripped. My attention was then grabbed by his hairstyle and to the way that it was plastered down on his head, by what looked like some sort of grease. Maureen, who was a few years older than me, told me to open the magazine, so that I could see a couple more photos of the man himself inside.
..........Late that afternoon, as most of the public were leaving the pool, I walked over to where we had all been sitting to look for my towel, not wanting to return home without it. Mother would have given me a good talking to for losing it. Sure enough, there was my towel, lying right beside the magazine that Maureen had let me look at earlier. After looking around to see if I was being watched, I picked it up, wrapped it in my towel and beat a hasty retreat before she came back to retrieve her precious magazine.
..........At home, I spent hours and hours just looking at the picture of Elvis, while wondering what it would be like to be on a big stage and to be able to sing just like him, while besieged by hundreds of screaming girl fans. Later while standing in front of our very small bathroom medicine cabinet mirror, I tried to pout my lips in order that I could look just like him. I then tried to sing the only words of the song that I could remember at that time, “Well Since My baby Left Me”. I must have found over one hundred different ways of trying to sing those words, while prancing around the bathroom. I’ve often wondered what Mother thought was happening in the bathroom at that time. Because, up until then, she would usually have to threaten me with physical violence just to get me inside the room for a bath and now she could not get me out of the place.
..........I even tried to get my hair to look the same as Elvis. Not having any Brylcream, the normal hair-grooming grease that was available in those days, I borrowed some Vaseline from the medicine cabinet. Having applied the grease to my hair, I then spent several hours trying to make it look just like Elvis. In the end, I kidded myself that I had found a way of getting it to look as near as possible to the man. However, there was a down side to my experiments, the greasy black stains that mysteriously appeared on my bed pillow, after a night’s sleep. Not to mention my Mother’s constant nagging, wanting to know why all the Vaseline had suddenly disappeared from the cabinet. I hoped she didn’t think that I was using it for something else. Deep inside I knew that she was aware of where it had gone, so I tried to make a joke of it by telling her that I could not scrape it off the pillow and replace it back in the container. She must have forgiven me because, on her very next shopping excursion she bought me a small jar of Brylcream and a brand new plastic hair comb.
..........I bought myself a scrapbook and glued the colour picture of Elvis on the very first page. As far as I was concerned, he was my number one idol and I was his number one fan. I’m sure if I had known how, I would have built a shrine and prayed to him every single day.
In order that I could accompany myself singing, I started tapping a beat on a small cardboard box that I found in my bedroom toy cupboard, while imagining I was playing a drum. At times, I got quite good, or at least I thought so and progressed into playing along with any tune that came on the radio. I guess I must be one of the only guys who accompanied classical music on a cardboard box. I could already hear the announcer in my head; “And now, at great public expense to the tune of a refundable cardboard box, I introduce to you all to the melodic tapings of Mr Thumper Tune”.
..........The following weekend I returned to the swimming pool hoping to see Maureen and her friend, as I wanted to ask what station they had been listening to. I had spent some time scanning the channels of my parent’s old wooden radio, but all I could find was the BBC Radio bands all the rest seemed foreign to me. At that time there were only three of them. The Home Service that was strictly for people who wanted to listen to current affairs and debates. Then there was what was known as the Third Program, which was for highbrow upper-class people and it only played Classical and Orchestral stuff. For people like myself there was the Light Program, that played what was known as light music of the day, that consisted of a few ballads that had been around for a couple of years and were constantly being repeated, songs that were sung by local artists like Dickey Valentine, Anne Shelton and Vera Lynn. While from America if you were lucky you got to hear Frankie Lane, Frank Sinatra and Rosemary Clooney.
..........On Sundays, at midday, there was a program called Family Favourites that was produced especially for the British servicemen and their families. The servicemen were usually stationed in British military bases in countries like Germany, Cyprus, Aden and Singapore, while their families were holding the fort back in the UK. Messages of goodwill were passed on to each other and culminated in a request for a record for their loved ones. Mostly these requests consisted of some sort of orchestral masterpiece, but occasionally a more modern piece of music was requested and allowed to be played. One of the more favoured ones at that time was by Pat Boone, an American artist, singing, “I’ll Be Home”. I guess the title says it all for the servicemen to their families and so this song was usually played at least once a month. Unfortunately, for me, it was a ballad type of song and so it was not really what I wanted to hear. To me it was what I called a wishy-washy sort of tune because it had no go in it. It was music that made you go to sleep and what I wanted to listen to made you jump up and dance. However, it was a change from the usual type of rubbish that was played on the program. Therefore, it was at least a break from tradition. I guess the establishment was gradually trying to change their boring ways in order that they might retain a younger audience.
..........Maureen informed me that she listened to a Dutch radio station known as Hilversham and that at certain times of the day they had special programs that played the latest music coming out of America. It did not matter that you could not understand the announcer as they talked in between tracks, because Elvis sounds the same in any language. Anyway, once the record started to play there was no mistaking who it was.
..........Back at home I spent a lot of time fiddling with the radio while trying to find Radio Hilversham, not really knowing where it actually was. The wave band number that Maureen had given me did not seem to be playing music that I wanted to hear. It was only after several attempts that I realised that the music I thirsted for was not played all the time. It was only played on the odd occasion and you had to sit through the whole program if you wanted to hear it.
..........After a couple of days I convinced myself that I had found it, but this lead to two further problems. One was that I had to sit through many hours of music that I hated and did not want to hear, in order to be listening when Elvis finally came on. The second problem was the radio reception was not very good and during the day the station kept fading badly. Therefore, I decided to do something about it, by attaching a piece of wire to the radio aerial connection on the back of the radio. I then threaded the other end through a hole in the cracked glass window by the radio. Finally I climbed out of my bedroom window and attached the other end of the wire to the metal rainwater guttering that surrounded the house. It did not solve the problem completely but it did improve the reception to an acceptable level. It was strange, but I worked out that the signal to the radio always seemed to be much stronger in the evenings and became stronger as we progressed into the night, although I never did know why. Later somebody tried to tell me that it was because there was not much movement at night because we were all at home and that the signal was even better on calm days as it was bounced of the North Sea, whatever that means.
..........One Saturday morning Uncle Mick took me up to Ipswich on the back of his motor bike, where we made our way towards Fore Street to music shop called Snezzum’s. There I was amazed to see a front window displaying many Guitars of every shape and size, or at least that’s how I described it to my Mother upon my return. Thinking back maybe there was only about ten and a couple of them were of the same design. However, my attention was grabbed by one that had a price label of ₤7-10s. It was still a lot of money to me, but at least it was within my reach if only I could save that little bit harder.
..........My persistence paid off big time, when my Mother finally cracked under the strain of my constant pleading with her, to let me buy one. I persuaded her to take me to Ipswich by double-decker bus so that I could purchase a guitar with money that I had managed to save from the morning newspaper delivery round. She also agreed to give me a little extra as an early Christmas present, if I helped her around the house for the next six months. Now that was a good trade off and I grabbed it with both hands. Knowing that I would be able to twist her around my little finger and get out of any future work.
..........We sat upstairs on the bus and as there were not many other people around us, I sang to her as we drove along, while accompanying myself by tapping on the back of the seat in front of me. However, halfway through the song I had to refrain from tapping the seat, because I created a thick cloud of dust that came out of the upholstery, which also made my hands very dirty. “Singing the Blues” was her favourite hit song at that time, by the new rising English singing sensation, Tommy Steele, who I might add just happened to play a guitar. Although it was another English version of an American hit record, by Guy Mitchell. Anyway, I gave her a good five-minute version, throwing in every ounce of feeling I could muster and loved every minute of it. Instead of being embarrassed, my Mother enjoyed what I had just sung for her and that made me very great. If others did not like what I was doing that was their problem. To heck with them my Mother did and that was fine by me. Anyway, I had just sung her favourite song and in doing so, I had also produced the finest performance of my life so far, so I had good reason to be proud.
..........As we walked into the music shop, I felt like I had entered Aladdin’s cave, because there was six beautiful guitars all hanging along the back wall behind the counter. It was only then that I suddenly realised that I did not have a clue what to ask for. I had always imagined that there would only be one type of guitar in the shop. This meant that I would not have to make a choice. I imagined that I would be saying to the sales staff, “I’ll take that one over there, pack it up and I’ll be on my way”. Suddenly things were not quite as clear as I had expected. I had walked into a completely different ball game and I could sense that I was somehow getting out of my depth. Having convinced my Mother to take me to the shop because I knew what I was doing, here I was lost for words, not knowing what to ask for or what to say to the sales staff.
..........As it turned out, my choices were severely restricted and cut down drastically by the fact that I only had £7-10 shillings in my pocket and that there was only one guitar in the shop around that price range, it being a steel-stringed acoustic one. To me it looked smaller than the other ones alongside it. When I pointed this out to the sales lady, she told me it was a three-quarter one, whatever that meant. It also looked different to the other ones, as its wooden body was very light in colour, unlike the other ones, which were all stained in dark browns. It even felt lighter as if it was made from orange-box material, but who was I to complain. I just wanted a guitar and here was one that I could afford. I’m sure Elvis never had these problems and anyway in the end they all sound the same, don’t they.
..........Once I had agreed with the sales lady that it was the one I wanted, she threw in a soft material carry case for me and I felt over the moon that I had actually got something for nothing out of the deal. Next, she offered to get it tuned up for me by one of the experts out the back of the shop. I did not have a clue what she was talking about, but I went along with her suggestion, as she knew more about these things than I did and as for Mum, well she had only come along for the bus ride and a look out the window.
..........After tuning it up, the so-called expert came to see me and asked if I had ever owned a guitar. Before I answered, I looked around the shop, noticing that a few people were watching me and listening to the conversation. Not being one who makes a habit of lying, but being a little embarrassed, I had to admit in front of all the other customers in the shop that I had not. The atmosphere suddenly changed, after they realised that I was not some hot shot expert who could play one of these things and so most of the people walked away. The expert then showed me how to play the chord of G, although at the time I did not have a clue what he was showing me for. I was under the impression that your left hand only held the weight of the neck and that your right hand just thrashed away on the strings over the hole in the body. The rest was down to how you snarled your lip and wiggled your hip.
..........The ride home on the bus turned out to be one of the longest journeys I think I ever experienced on public transport. I had the guitar propped upright in its own seat beside me and my arm around it as if it were my new girlfriend. I could not wait to get it home and to start playing “Blue Suede Shoes,” because I had already learnt all of the words to the song or thought I had. As you can’t stop a radio and go back for a further listen.
..........I had finally been able to purchase my very first guitar and there was no way that I was going to be parted from it now. I even gave it a girl’s name, I named it Liz, after a girl at the Grammar school who I had been chasing unsuccessfully for some time. The shape of it seemed to remind me of Elizabeth’s body shape. Therefore, as you can imagine, I was glad that I was not learning how to play the double bass. Although, there was a girl in my class that I could have named it after, but there was no way I would have wasted any time chasing after Big Bertha as I named her.
..........Once home I ran upstairs and put on my blue-and-black striped shirt, smeared a little Brylcream on my hair and shook the guitar out of the bag. Within seconds, I found myself standing in front of the small mirror on the dressing table in my room. However, my rendition of “Blue Suede Shoes” did not sound quite as good as the version I had heard on the radio the day before. Although I was more than happy with my singing, it was the sounds that came from the guitar that seemed to spoil the whole song. The set back was disappointing for me, after all, I was expecting everything to sound perfect and note for note exactly like the record. It took me several days to get over the bitter disappointment I had experienced after strumming my very first guitar. Somehow, I tried to kid myself that Elvis must have gone through the very same sort of disappointment when his Mother purchased his first guitar. If that were the case, then I had to place this major setback to my ego behind me and work on improving it. After all, Elvis never gave up. He must have picked himself up and just got on with life, picking up tips along the way as he learnt to play. Although that could be a problem, as I knew of nobody who played a guitar in Stowmarket.
..........I was still very friendly with Ray Saunders at that time and seeing my new Guitar he managed to talk his parents into buying him one. As he lived just over the road from me, we would spend many hours in his Fathers shed trying to learn to play our new found loves, much to the disgust of his Father who apparently did not like the noise we produced. Which must have sounded awful? For some reason I had forgotten the left hand fingering of the chord of G that the expert in the guitar shop had showed me. Of the three fingers that were required I had place one of them on the wrong string, and had been playing like that for many weeks. God knows what it must have sounded like, and twice as bad because I had shown Ray the same fingering. This meant that every single song we played together we only used the one chord throughout the whole song and we were playing that wrong.
..........Keeping them in tune was a major problem. I had wrongfully believed that once the guy in the shop had tuned it up, that was it for good. Some woeful sounds must have come out of that shed during those first few months we played together.
..........It was Clive Barnard who came to the rescue and finally showed us how to play the correct chord of G. I think his brother had showed him at some time or other. That turned out to be a bit of a laugh, because although the expert in Snezzum’s had shown me how to play the chord of G, by the time I got home I had completely forgotten the fingering. In trying to remember I’d settled on what I thought sounded okay but I was actually playing a G6th, at least it was a recognised chord. I must also add that every single song we played was also in this one and only chord. No wonder the songs coming out of Rays shed must have sounded strange. Clive never did buy a guitar which was a pity because I think with him we might have progressed. However, he did buy a mouth organ and could play it very well. Anyway, after a few months my guitar was left in the toy cupboard, only to be removed on the odd occasion.
..........I’m sure Ray was like me and was struggling in the music stakes. This amazed me because I had noticed that his parents had bought him a much better Guitar. It was full size and was a deep brown colour costing twice as much as mine. It was also noticeable that it looked like the same type of guitar that most up and coming singers of the day were using. I knew this because slowly pictures of them were appearing in magazines, although I didn’t buy them, I used to always read other peoples if they left them lying around. Incidentally, his big brother Brian never seemed to be interested in music. However, many years later when I paid a flying visit to Stowmarket, I was informed that Brian ran the local and the best DJ show around at that time. Just goes to show you cannot judge people by appearances, life is full of surprises.
..........In the play ground at school, music was always the main topic of conversation, and usually included the top twenty hit parade. I guess it was at a time like this, that the forming of Skiffle group was mentioned amongst a small group of us who had gathered in a corner. We also considered the fact that the school was about to announce its annual end of term show, which was usually put together by Mr Underwood one of the art teachers. Or Chair Leg Charlie as I called him. He was also well known around the town because of the Boy Scouts Gang Shows he used to produce annually. So along with a few other boys in my class, we approached Mr Underwood about a spot in the show, wanting to show off our skill as a Skiffle Group. Now if I can remember correctly, it consisted of Ray Saunders and myself on Guitars. Larry Hammond joined us on a Tea Chest Bass, that I had built and I think Michael Cracknell was with us and another boy, but I can’t remember his name or what he played. To add to our excitement we were given permission to go ahead and form the band. We were also allowed to practice during the dinner breaks in one of the classrooms. Suddenly we became the centre of attraction throughout the school. Many of our playmates would be climbing up the walls to peer into the windows just to watch. However, it soon became evident that musically we could not get it together. None of us knew the correct chords required to put a song together, we just did not have a clue. Other than the chord of G that Clive had taught us, that was about it. There was just no way that we could perform half a dozen songs continually playing the same chord of G in front of our school friends.
..........What I do remember was how frightened I felt about the prospect of performing in front of a crowd of people, especially young people I knew. Just the thought was starting to scare the hell out of me. Up until then, I had never been on a stage in my life. Then if you add in to the mix the scenario that we could not play a note, just the thought of making utter fools of our selves was beginning to scare me.
..........As the day of the show raced ever closer we all realised that we could not string one simple song together and that the noise we were currently producing was going to make us the laughing stock of the whole school. Therefore, Mr Underwood decided that we should mime to a record, unheard of in those days, now that is something, maybe we invented the term mime. Because of my bashfulness and new found dread of going on stage in front of a crowd, I talked Larry Hammond into playing my guitar and I very thankfully took over on the Tee Chest Bass. Now I could position myself at the back of the stage. Larry also became the lead singer as well, another job I had been dreading. However, a good thing came out of this change around. I am almost certain that this was the beginning of my love of the Bass and of its sound, something I listen to on every record that is played today.
..........The Tee Chest Bass was made up from an old tea chest with a broom handle and a short length of string. We made it by punching a hole in the middle of the top of the Tee Chest. Then we passed through this hole a short length of string. A knot was then tied in the string, but inside of the Chest. Next, all of the slack from the string was pulled up so that the knot was up hard and tight to the underside of the Tee Chest. The other end of the string that had been pulled through is measured off to about the same length as the broom handle. After its cut, the end of the string is tied to the top of the broom handle. While the other end of the broom handle is then place on top of the Tee Chest, but in one of the four corners, so that the string is held tight. In this position, you made sure that you held the top of the broom handle with your right hand. While placing your left foot on top of the Tee Chest as a counter balance, just to steady and hold it in position, oh and to look cool as they say. Then when you plucked the string, you heard deep bass note. With your right hand still holding the top of the broom handle you can pull away from the centre of the chest tightening the string, this will then change the note, raising it higher in pitch. Likewise if you ease off on the tension with your right hand, and then the note will sound lower. Not that I under stood anything about notes, to me they all sounded the same.
..........I used to pluck away on it during any free time that I could manage to find. I even painted the Tee Chest red and added a picture of the planet Saturn onto the front. As you can guess, by popular demand the group was named the ‘Planets”, having been decided upon after a very long drawn out democratic voting system that I thrust upon the other members. In other words it was the Planets and that was it, I was not going to repaint it.
..........Came the dreaded show day and I had a severe bout of butterflies in the stomach, after being terrified for most of the day. It was even worse when I finally went on stage, then I was absolutely petrified, but not Larry, he loved it and did a great job. I think the song he sang was called “Lost John” or “Putting On The Style” or maybe it was “Does Your Chewing Gum Loose Its Flavour”. Anyway, I do know that they were all Lonnie Donegan songs and that it was one or the other. Most of the group got into the excitement of the moment and looked the part. Unfortunately not me, I looked away from the audience all the time, being scared to look at them. I did not even mouth the words to the song, we were supposed to be miming to. Then at the end of our three minutes of fame, Mr Underwood walked across the stage with a record tucked under his arm and to the delight of the audiences turned to us and said, “Goodnight boys I’ll return your record in the morning”.
..........It’s strange but I loved the attraction and attention that being the comedian brought me, but I hated being up on a stage in front of all those prying eyes, why the difference I just don’t know. To this day, I can still get very nervous in front of large crowds, it is just something that happens and I do my best to get over it. The old show biz saying of “The Show Must Go On” is so true.
..........However, one thing I did learn from this early experience was that I preferred to play the Bass, something that has stayed with me for most of my life. I still love the Bass and at the moment I would not want to change over to any other instrument.
..........There were a few other young people in my area of around my age who were learning to play musical instruments. Darren Barnard who lived near the Frost twins was one year younger than me at school. He used to play with some of the Hillside mob, especially Mick Rampley. We were never close friends but at least we moved around in the same circles. Darren was to go on and join a couple of local Rock n Roll bands as a guitarist. Many many years later and by a strange twist of fate, our musical paths would cross, while Darren and I were on the other side of the world. Then there was Brian (Tubby) Seaman’s, now he was good and most people believed he would go on to better things, and he did. Another name that springs to mind was Christopher Pennington. Chris later used the stage name Chris Penny and became very successfully singing country music. At one time our paths crossed as we were both on the same bill at a Clacton venue, in the early70’s.
..........It being the summer holidays once again, I spent a lot of time at the swimming pool. Where I tried very hard to pass with flying colours all of the proficiency and distance swimming tests that were available for me at the time. I also spent a lot of time with the Stowmarket Swimming Club that was run by Mr Weston Howard, (Howard’s sweet shop opposite Milton road). My aim was to train hard enough so that I could represent the club. The pool was thirty-three and a third yards long. At that time being the Olympic size, which meant that three of its lengths equalled one hundred yards. My time for one of those lengths I believe was around the twenty-seven seconds, (I think the fastest time I ever recorded was around twenty one seconds the age of 16). Anyway, this particular year I did compete in a couple of local Stowmarket Gala meets, but never finished anywhere impressive. Most races in those days were handicapped events, not freestyle like today. Prior to the Gala you would have to swim a timed distance and from that a club official worked out handicap time. So on the big day you were given a number when you were to enter the water. You all lined up and a starting pistol signalled the beginning of the race. Immediately the starter began counting aloud and when your particular number came up you dived into the water and swam as fast as you could.
..........Before the pool closed for the winter, which was usually around the end of September, mainly because it was situated outside and the temperatures of the water would drop fast as we approached the winter. I had obtained the 220yard and the 440yard distance swimming awards, along with the third class proficiency. My favourite and most impressive stroke was freestyle or crawl as we called it, although I was also quite good at back stroke.
..........While training for the Suffolk Inter School Swimming championship, the Head master allowed me to spend more time at the pool, especially early in the morning after I had finished my newspaper round. I was given permission to arrive at school an hour later than the other students. Then after school I would return for another session till early in the evening. During all this time I would usually be with Timothy Cairns a classmate and fellow swimmer. One evening Tim and I started talking to two girls who we became very friendly with. The girl I preferred was Elizabeth and she lived along Needham Market Road in a very large house. Her father had some sort of important job at the ICI factory where my Father also worked. I cannot remember her friend’s name, but they were both Grammar School girls which was not the done thing at that time. In those days a Secondary Modern guy did not usually go out with a girl from a Grammar School. There just seemed to be a bit of a stigma about the whole thing, there being a them and us attitude. As if that wasn’t enough, the parents also had a say in who was going to court their daughter and it sure as hell was not going to be a boy from the Secondary Modern School with a lower standard of education. To them we would have been known as losers with poor job prospects. Believing that Grammar school children always ended up with the better higher paid jobs, boy what stories of success can we tell those parents today. Funny how it was quite different the other way round. Some Secondary Modern girls ended up going with Grammar school boys. Their parents would be pushing their daughters into marrying somebody with so called better job prospects.
..........Elizabeth was a nice quiet shy girl and I liked her very much. She just happened to be the girl I had been chasing for some time and I had even named my guitar after her. Therefore, that was always a way of starting up a conversation with her. I did manage to see her for several weeks, mostly after school while we were both at the pool. I don’t think we ever venture away from that area because she was scared of her Father. Unfortunately, I put an end to the relationship, always wanting to move on. A decision I would later regretted. Especially after I learnt that she did not want the relationship to end and was hurt badly by my decision. For the next couple of years we would always look at each other in passing, but no words were ever spoken between us again. I cannot remember her surname but she lived somewhere opposite the Cedars Club, along Needham Road.
..........RAF Wattisham staged a big air show that year, and Dad took Mother and me on one of Combs Coaches for a visit. It was held on a Saturday and we all had a great day. By this time I was becoming very interested in aircraft and by now had acquired a lot of information on the subject. However, the event did not go off without a hitch, because one of the stunt pilots unfortunately crashed into the ground. He was supposed to be a lunatic on the run from the funny farm in Ipswich. We all saw him run across the airfield heading towards the aircraft, supposedly being chased by the Police. He jumped into the aircraft and spoilt what could have been a good show by crashing on takeoff.
..........Even the coach trip home was not without incident, when we were stopped as we were about to leave the airfield by the RAF Police. Two young passengers, Derrick Hayward and his mate had taken some flares from one of the aircraft hangers. They were both escorted off the coach and taken away for questioning, but I’m not sure what happened to the flares. They told the police that they had found them just lying around the airfield. I do remember most of the other passengers were all very upset that the flares had been smuggled on the bus, and all were giving their version of what might have happened if they had gone off.
..........Another incident happened to Pat Horrochs who lived at the bottom of Poplar Hill by the Primary School. Pat was walking from the airfield and trying to cross the road when another young guy, who was riding like a bat out of hell on his push bike, collided with him. Pat ended up in hospital with a broken arm and leg, while the guy on the bike flew several metres down the road, before finally crashing into the ground and smashing his body and his camera. Apparently, he was very excited and rushing home to develop the photo’s he had taken of the day’s event. He need not have been in such a hurry because I’m told none of them were of use to him, as the complete back of the camera was smashed off when it hit the road.
..........During my last years at school, I started to get out a lot on my own and to mix with many other new young people from the area. We were all searching for the same independence from our parents and guardians. Some people called it the rebel in us, but I guess it was just part of growing up, and that we had more interests to turn to, than our parents ever had.
..........During some of the evenings, I would go with friends to the recreation ground at the back of the Secondary Modern School. There we would wait for our girlfriends to come out of night school, being held on the School premises. On one such evening while we were playing around, on the swings, slides and roundabout. We heard a guitar sound coming from the main Memorial Shelter and so being inquisitive as all young people are, we just had to take a look.
..........Sitting in the dark with a couple of other guys was Maurice, an ex sailor who was also waiting for his girl friend (Joy). To pass the time away he was playing his acoustic guitar and singing to his friends. This must have been the very first time that I witnessed somebody playing a guitar live and making a good job of it as well. One song I remember him singing and playing was the “Midnight Special”, a song I still like to this day and is one of my top 30 favourites of all time. Because I showed a keen interest, Maurice even let me have a play, helping me with finger positioning and strumming. Now that was another first for me. Up until that time the only chord I had ever known and been able to play was the good old chord of G. That was the day I learnt how to play the chord of C, things were starting to move in the music industry, or at least that’s what I thought.
..........Maurice was a good player and I got to know him quite well. I used to go and hear him play at every opportunity I could, and he would always give me further instructions. This heightened my interest in music and it was not long before I dusted off my old guitar from the toy box. Within a couple of weeks I was playing all three chords that were mainly used in a song in those days. The good old 12 bar blues in C, F and G. And for that I thank Maurice from the bottom of my heart. It was that first casual meeting that improved my interest and playing of the guitar, that eventual took me around the world.
...........I saw Maurice as a Tommy Steele type of character, who at that time had just returned from an overseas trip in the Merchant Navy and was taking the country by storm. Tommy had also ended up playing guitar and singing, his first big hit was “Singing the Blues” one of my Mothers favourites at that time.
..........After leaving the Royal Navy Maurice took a job in Stowmarket located in Marriott’s Walk, running what was then the only record shop in town. Something in the back of my mind tells me the shop was owned by Hick’s but I’m not sure. I would spend countless hours in this shop after school. Listening to the records that Maurice would play for me from the shops stock, especially the Rock n Roll ones that were now starting to filter in to the country. Maurice also started to show me some new chords and finally how to actually tune my guitar. This must have been the first time my guitar had been tuned correctly since I bought it. Mind you I still struggled as I did not have a very good ear to tune it up correctly at that time. Therefore, you can imagine how happy I was many years later when somebody finally invented the electronic guitar string tuner.
..........I went on a school trip along with other members of my class to “Grimes Graves” located near Thetford. This was an old cave man flint mine that had been preserved. We were all given the chance to go underground to have a look around. All the tunnels were very low and in a couple of places I had to crawl on my hands and knees to get through. There seemed to be several tunnels leading out from a central shaft, they went round in a circle ending up back at the shaft. I had taken with me an old dark blue school raincoat to wear underground which was just as well as I became covered with chalk. Judging by a comparison in size to present day man, these cavemen must have been very small. All along the walls, I could see the veins of Flint set in the chalk. In a few places you could even see where the cavemen had actually tried to dig the flint out off the chalk. I thought it was simply amazing, to be standing on the very same spot that a caveman had over two thousand years earlier.
..........In the afternoon we all went into the town of Thetford and the local Museum, where we had a look at Flint objects that had been found in the mine and from the surrounding the area. The Flint had been dug out of the chalk by deer antlers that had been used as picks, and later made into arrow and spearheads. This was an amazing day out for me and a subject that was to fascinate me for many years to come. This whole experience was what triggered my very keen interest in history, something that’s still with me today. History and Geography would have to be the two main subjects I have studied and enjoyed most of my life. I did well in both of them at school, usually finishing at the top of my class, but as I’ve said before I was very ordinary at the subjects that matter most in our education, reading and writing.
..........A terrible slow killing disease known as myxomatosis spread very rapidly amongst the rabbit population of Eastern England during this year. The sides of the road to and from Thetford were simply littered with dead and rotting rabbit carcasses. There were also a few very large fields around the site at Grimes Graves, so the site was protected by so-called rabbit proof fencing. The green fields on the other side were just littered with white objects, upon closer inspection it became clear that they were thousands and thousands of dead rabbits, I don’t think I will ever forget that sight. I was later told that once the rabbits had the disease, it became so painful that they would sit on the side of the road, just waiting to be run over, to put them out of their misery. If you think about it, they were simply trying to commit suicide. This could be born out, as the animal would not move as the vehicles approached, or it could be that they were simply in too much pain to move. Anyway the disease was spread by a flea that the rabbit picked up as it went underground into it’s borrow. This is why the Hare a close relative of the rabbit, did not pick up the disease, because it does not go underground. There were also many rumours at that time that the farmers wanted the rabbits off their property and had released the flea on purpose. Unfortunately, there has never been an explanation as to how the diseases first came about. Although, many years later I did watch a television program that seemed to trace one of the first out breaks of the disease to a farm near where the Sizewell Nuclear power station now stands.
..........June fourteenth came around and suddenly I was a teenager. Thirteen felt great, but I could hardly believe it. It also meant a move up to the third year at school and also informed me that I only had two more years to go. Then I would be able to get a full time job, so I could start to earn some really big money. Although at that time I still had no idea what type of work I wanted to do. The only thing I was certain of at this stage was that I did not intend to join any of the armed services. The most often suggested trade given by young boys at that age was that they always wanted to become a train driver. Don’t ask me why as I have no idea and no it did not interest me.
..........Although on many occasions we would walk to the railway crossing by the ICI factory to take steam engine numbers. A few of the guys had even purchased booklets with all the numbers already printed out for them. For them it was just a case of ticking them off. While guys like me used to take a scrap of paper and just write them down in pencil, whenever a train passed. Occasionally we would sky lark around and place pennies on the line. We must have been very lucky because as the train rode over them, they would fly up and away from the line like a bullet fired from a gun. I never heard of one actually hitting somebody but if it had, I’m sure it would have almost killed them. However, once the train had passed we were always amazed at the imprint of the copper penny on the rail. I have often wondered what the train drivers thought, as they approached a gang of guys playing very close to the rails, especially as the trains were travelling very fast past this point.
..........During my time at the Modern school I received two severe beatings from the teachers for incidents that I did not do. Now I know that most prisoners always claim that they are innocent, well I actually was. As I am only trying to describe to the reader what I got up to during my life time, I have no reason to make things up, or tell lies, so I guess you will have to believe me. If I don’t tell the truth then it’s not a true Autobiography.
..........On one occasion a young girls bicycle was damaged in the School Bicycle shed as she was attending the night school. I have written a couple of times that along with other guys we would all play on the recreation grounds and on occasions we did go on to the school premises. But on this occasion we did not enter the school territory. However, for some reason and I don’t know why, one of the girls claimed that she saw three of us looking in the classroom window. On this flimsy evidence, even though we were trying to claim our innocents. Ray, Peter and I were given several strokes of the cane by the headmaster. The girl, who was responsible for this act, just happened to be somebody who was not pursued by the young guys of the day and always felt out of the fun and games that most indulged in. She certainly never increased her circle of friend over the incident, as most of our school friends believed our version of events. It’s just a pity that the headmaster did not agree with them.
..........The other occasion was while I was attending Mr Howell’s metalwork class room. I was working on a pedestal drill positioned by the entrance door. As a class mate came into the room and walked behind me he spoke. I did not answer him and I certainly did not turn around to look at him, as I was drilling a hole in a piece of metal at the time. Mr Howell ordered us both in front of the class and gave us a lecture on safety while working on the machinery. The main one being that only one person was to be on the machine at any one time and we were certainly not to be distracted by other students. Not believing my version, we were both beaten in front of the class. I say beaten because Mr Howell’s favourite instrument of choice was a length of flat rubber that contained three strips of wire enclosed within. I have always thought that it was a two foot length of 4mm black Twin and Earth Electrical cable. I can tell you now that it hurt and was several days before the swelling and wails disappeared. Howell, to me was a sadist and I’m sure that if he were around today he would be in court for some of the beating he administered against many of my fellow student while at that school. Some of the stories that were told of his beating exploits were quite horrific and would certainly fall within the realm of child mistreatment. He was one of those who subscribed to the saying that “Little children should be seen and not heard”. I’ve often wondered how he treated his own children. I wouldn’t mind betting that they were very scared individuals. A lot of water has gone under the bridge as they say since the incident, and I’m not one for holding grudges, but that’s a beating I will never forget and wouldn’t mind telling him to his face if ever I got the chance. Therefore you can understand why in the past I’ve not spoken of him very highly, and never will. Mainly because it worries me as to what other injuries other fellow students might have suffered during his reign at the school. On a safety note, he could not have been that bright in the intelligence stakes, by positioning a pedestal drill right by a door way. It certainly would not be allowed to day.
..........This brings me to fellow student Nobby Clarke. Who along with his family, had moved into Valley View Road and was by now attending the Secondary Modern School. Nobby was big guy and you would never think of upsetting him. However, on a good day he was always very friendly and sociable and I struck up a good friendship him. His pastime was building crystal sets and small ham radios, so he was way ahead of us lesser mortals. It was this hobby that helped him befriend Mr Howell who was also into that sort of thing.
..........However, the friendship did not last very long. After committing one of Mr Howells cardinal sins he was ordered in front of the whole class. After a lecture Mr Howell then ordered him to lie across one of the desks so he could administer the beating in front of the entire class. Upon Nobby’s refusal, and him not wanting to be be-littled in front of the whole class, Mr Howell tried to grab him. In his fumbled attempt, Nobby brushed him aside, pushing him onto the blackboard. That inflamed the situation further and all hell was let loose as Mr Howell tried in vain to hit Nobby with his favourite piece of rubber. By now Mr Howell had become very frustrated knowing full well that the whole class was witnessing his failure to administer his chosen choice of law enforcement. The rubber strip was raining down on Nobby from every conceivable angle, trying to hit any part of his anatomy that he could come into contact with. Fortunate for Nobby, Howell was not successful and he only managed to lose his balance and fell upon the desk, hitting his head and gashing his eye.
..........The next thing I remember was the Headmaster pulling Nobby to one side. He had heard the commotion coming from within the classroom and had rushed in. Reading the wrong signs, he then accused Nobby of assaulting the teacher. Not wanting the other students to think that he had got away with it, he ordered Nobby to his study, just as the play-time bell rang.
..........While Nobby stood in front of the Headmaster’s desk he also faced a small window that looked out upon the boys play ground. I was amongst a small group of students all trying to peer into the study to see what was going on. Nobby was not given a chance to explain his side of what had happened and instead the Headmaster ordered him to accept ten strokes of the cane. However, Nobby was not going to be caned for something he had not done.
..........Suddenly the study door opened and other four male teachers entered the room and immediately tried to physically grab him and to lay him on the headmaster’s desk. Nobby was not going to give up without a struggle and struggle he did. The whole incident went on for several minutes, but at no time did they ever have him in a position where they could administer one single blow upon him. However, I do remember hearing a couple of the teachers shouting out in pain, as he kicked one of them and the other one copped a misaimed blow from the Headmaster’s cane. Finally, the headmaster ordered a stop to the punishment, but not before almost every item of furniture in his office had been disturbed in some way. The whole place looked like a hurricane or a bomb had hit the place. Nobby was then ordered out of his office to stand in the corridor that passed in front of his office door, while the teachers discussed what to do next. At one time we heard one of the teachers suggest that they bring in the Police, although it would not have worried Nobby.
..........Nobby took up a position outside the Headmaster's office, as his fellow schoolmates were being marched in single file back to their respective classrooms from the playground, where their playtime break had ended. Most of the boys were all smiling as they walked past him. Some gave him the thumbs-up sign while others gave him whispered encouragement for his stand, but all in a half-hearted gesture and in an undercover way. However, one of the teachers marching them started picking on some of the boys as they whispered to Nobby. They were in turn ordered to line up alongside him. These were later to taste the full weight of the cane. That will be right, I thought, they could not cane Nobby, so in order to make an example to others, now they would pick on some other poor undefended soul who was scared to answer back. I have always believed that the incident changed the way many of the students thought about the punishments that were dished out at that school. Because over the coming months a few of them stood up for themselves just like Nobby had. I also believe that some of the beatings did ease and so in a way Nobby’s stand might have helped others. I believe that the Police were involved at one time, but that no action was ever taken against Nobby. I never knew what happened to Nobby, but it was rumoured that just after he finished his schooling his family immigrated to Australia.
..........Positioned directly above Mr Howell’s metal work class room of doom, was Mr Stuart’s Woodwork Class room. Being higher it had a brighter outlook unlike the dark dingy interior of the class and teacher below. Almost every boy who passed through its doors had to make a broom holder and a small book case. Mainly so we all understood how a Dove Tail and a Mortis and Tenant joint was constructed. I held onto my bookcase for many years although I can’t remember where it finally ended up. Once you had completed these two tasks successfully we were allowed to make something of your own choice. Most people choose to go on to the lathe and make the customary fruit bowl. This usually gave some of us a laugh as the very nervous students usually stuck the cutting knife into the revolving block of timber to deep, resulting in the blade digging in. It was then torn out of the student’s hands, being thrown up against the window at high speed, and in some cases it went through the window after breaking the glass.
..........For some reason I had no idea what I wanted to do. During one particular class Mr Stuart suggested to a couple of other boys and myself that maybe we would like to get together and make an observation Bee Hive for the school Bee club, that had just recently been established. To which a couple of us had already enlisted, as a means of getting out of other class room work we did not like. Anyway it sounded a good idea that might possibly lead to us skipping future classes, so we raised our hands to the challenge.
..........Mr Stuart came up with the plans and went over them a couple of times explaining what was expected of us and how it would all work. It was to be constructed like a thin oblong box that was to be sat on end, its width was to measure about two foot and face the front, while the depth was about six inches, and the whole project stood about four foot high. The front and the back of the cabinet were made up like two double glazed panels that could be easily removed after a couple of side catches had been turned. It was made of glass so that we could all witness what the bees were getting up to inside the hive. At times when they were to be left to their own devices, a piece of thin ply wood was then place over the glass, so the bees had their privacy and could continue working in the darkness just like a normal hive. These two pieces of ply wood were only held in position by the two handles of the double glazed panels that the ply had been pushed over. These same two handles were used to pull the doubled glazed side off the hive, an operation that would only take place when the hive was set up by the head bee keeper, after he had installed the honey combs and the bees.
..........For some reason I actually enjoyed the work and each week I looked forward to the wood work lesson. The project took several weeks to complete, but I must admit I and my fellow students were quite pleased with the end result. It had been agreed that we would be able to place the finished hive in the main assemble hall up by one of the main windows that over looked the gardens. Mr Stuart arranged for a special shelf to be constructed by another class, upon which we then position our observation bee hive. A hole had been drilled into the bottom of the hive to which we fixed a short section of a vacuum cleaner hose. The other end was then secured to a hole in the window frame, giving the bee access to the garden.
..........During one of the weekly bee club lessons during our lunch break the bee keeper transferred a couple of honey combs along with a Queen bee and many of her workers. Once everything was in position and working correctly we were amazed at what we could see. Up until then I’m sure that none of us had any idea what went on inside a bees hive.
..........The whole project was great success and caused so much interest that the Headmaster decided to have an official opening in front of the whole school. Now one of the first and golden rules of being a member of the bee club was that you were not allowed to swat a bee if it came near you. I guess it was a way of trying to protect them. Anyway came the big day and the whole school was lined up in the assembly hall with the headmaster standing next to the bee hive. He then gave a short speech explaining what it was all about, introducing and thanking all of us who had been involved in the project. Finally in order that the assembled pupils could all see what was happening inside the hive, he grabbed hold of the handles instead of the ply wood and feeling it a little stiff gave an almighty tug and to the amazement of all who were gather, he pulled the double glazed side completely of the hive. Well as you can image immediately he was covered with hundreds of very angry bee’s who had just been disturbed from their morning snooze. The headmaster went crazy trying to swat and knock off as many bees as was possible that had landed on him. We could all clearly see that he was being stung many times over, but all we could do was to point a finger at him and shout “You’re out of the bee club, you’re not supposed to kill them”.
..........During the swimming season this summer, I became a regular member of the Stowmarket Swimming Club team. Swimming at the Beccles Regatta in the under fourteen’s 50 yard freestyle sprint. Where I notched up my very first win and for my troubles, I won a small watch. In those days most swimming race wins were reward with small presents. I also came third in the 100 yards under fourteen’s and for that I won a scout knife. However, in another race I had been given the number 8 as my handicap number, unfortunately I entered the water on 6 and so was disqualified. I was very disappointed and felt humiliated amongst my fellow swimmers by the whole experience, but I can assure you it never happened again.
..........That season I also swam at the Oulton Broads Gala which is located on the Norfolk Broads. Unfortunately I cannot remember how well I did or where I was placed. This same year I also passed the second-class proficiency award for schools.
..........I also started taking more and more notice of the girls, and about this time I had a couple of encounters while at the pool. Nothing too serious but one name that does spring to mind is Jan, who was on her summer holiday from Essex. She was a good-looking cracker of a girl and somehow I started to meet her at the pool. I believe that at one time I even wrote to her upon her return to Essex via a friend. However, everybody was drooling over her, so much so I did not hang onto her for long. I think she ended up going with a fellow swimming club member who she eventually married a few years later. I always blamed my looks for that loss, once again being reminded of the scar on my upper lip and the good looks of my fellow school friend.
..........During the winter months, I spent a lot of time playing around the now almost completed building site at Aldiss Avenue. I was usually with Clive and a few of the boys from the Valley View mob. Once again it usually took the form of a hide and seek game and a free for all fight when we were eventually caught. We would always be running in and out of the houses, up and down the scaffolds and around the cement storage sheds. I usually found this great fun, but I saw many boys fall from the scaffold in their haste to get away from their possible captors, but somehow they just got up and ran away. With what I know now and of some of the accidents I have seen since, this would scare the living death out of me today.
..........My Auntie Betty had just got married and lived out in the country, several miles away from Nana’s house. I loved to bike over and see her at the weekends, just so I could hear her husband Bob’s record collection. Bob was a very keen Country and Western fan and had a large selection of records. I believe his favourite was Hank William’s Kaw-Liga, the very same one that Betty and I used to play at Nana’s on her old gramophone. Anyway, it was worth the long distance pedal pushing that I had to undertake in order that I might hear some of those records. Maybe it could have been the start of my liking for Country Music.
..........While at School in grades three and four I played with the Peachment twins, Robin and Melvin, who were a year younger than I was. They had an older brother Mike who I would team up with a couple of years later (1960) and together we would go to Ipswich during the weekends. The Peachment family lived on Preston's Hill just opposite the sand pits, an area where we all played at different times, while in that area of town. The gang included Larry Hammond and an older bigger boy, Russell somebody. The Peachment boys had a gang den, built under their garden. They got up to some cruel tricks in that building, like sticking straws up frog’s backsides and blowing them up with air. Then placing them in a tank of water and watching them try to dive down to the bottom of the tank. They had frog traps that were made of two pieces of board each measuring 6 inches by 6 inches and with lots of nails sticking through each piece. They also had bird traps they had invented, made up of ordinary house bricks. To this day, I can still remember how they built them and how they worked having tried it myself a few years later. Although in the end my love of animals got the better of me and I moved on to meet up with other young guys from around the area. I don’t even like standing on spiders and if I find one in the house, I usually pick it up and place it out side in the garden.
..........During the summer, I again represented the Stowmarket Swimming Club at the Beccles Regatta. I came first in the one hundred yards for the under sixteen’s and for my trouble I won myself a set chest expanders, not that I had a very big chest in those days. These were made up of two handles, one for the left hand and one for the right, that you held in front of your chest, these were joined together by five springs and each one would take 35lb to expand it. I do not think that I ever expanded it fully while all five springs attached. However like most of my toys they ended up in the toy box under my bed.
..........The so-called swimming pool at Beccles was just an area roped off along the banks of the local river, with two very shallow pontoons at each end. The depth they were in the water would have been only about nine to twelve inches. We started the race with a dive off one of these pontoons, resurfacing with weed all around our head. We would then swim to the other pontoon. Upon touching it you turned around and using your feet you tried to push off to swim the return leg. As the pontoon was sitting so shallow in the water, your feet went right underneath and you stopped dead, you then had nothing to push off from for the return leg. However, I still won, so I guess I cannot complain too loudly. The high diving was a great laugh, the diving boards were sticking out from a building site scaffolding tower. The divers would also re-appear from the water with an array of weed covering their heads, receiving great laughs from the surrounding crowd.
..........The Regatta at Beccles lasted for a week, and usually attracted very large fun fair that was positioned on the other side of the river. Another event held on the river was, the All England Shovel Race. Any type of boat could be used and any type of shovel as oars. Teams were usually in fancy dress and had fancy names. Boats also carried an array of missiles that included rotten eggs, tomatoes and flour bombs. These were thrown at the other teams and the crowd. The whole event finished at eleven o’clock Saturday evening with a very large fireworks display. That was followed by a long drive home on one of Combs or Mulley’s coaches. However, most of us usually fell sleep for the duration of the trip.
..........During one Stowmarket Gala I came third in the 66 yard for the under sixteen’s, I believe I won a leather wallet. That year I was also a member of the relay team and we came first a couple of times. It was also the year a Royal Naval team arrived to swim in one of the Gala’s from HMS Ganges at Shotley. During an interval they gave us a truly amazing diving display from all three diving boards. We were all amazed as they demonstrated to us the art of water bombing. I’m sure that was the first time that most of those present had ever seen it. While today, I guess everybody can do it. But then it was truly amazing to watch those guys coming down from the highest board laying dead flat and curling up at the very last moment before they hit the water, to make one of the biggest splashes I have ever seen. To also witness the dozens of people they drenched that day from their big splashes. It was a fantastic display and something I later indulged in at every opportunity.
..........During another Gala the Stowmarket club put on a fun event for the audience. At that time one of the fastest swimmers in the club was a guy named Doug. Anyway a stranger to the club had challenged him to a one length sprint race. While Doug was already on his starting block, the challenger was then introduced to the crowd as he appeared from the changing rooms. He was a tall very lean person wearing a full length old fashion bathing costume. He was also wearing a long blonde wig, with a white goatee beard and moustache. The audience was unaware that it was Conrad Freezer a fellow club member, who lived at Combs Ford. Anyway after a couple of false starts followed by a few jokes, he told the crowd that he could not dive so he was allowed to get in to the water. Then unseen by most of the audience, from the scum channel that surrounded the pool he took hold of a rope that had secretly been left for him earlier. Anyway the starter’s gun sounded and Doug was away, leaving Conrad standing and shouting foul. He then lowered himself down into the water by which time Dough was already half way up the pool. Suddenly Conrad was streaming up the pool at 90 mile an hour, with a bow wave coming from him like a speed boat. What the audience didn’t know was that a group of 12 people were on the other end of the rope and at the back of the lawn out of sight, pulling like mad. Need I add that Conrad won the race. That was the high light of the night and gave everybody a big laugh, once they had realised what had happened.
..........I also became very interested in boxing especially the heavyweights and whenever possible I would read about different fights in the newspapers. I even started a scrap book on the subject and would constantly be pasting in newspaper cutting of the latest big fight. I can also remember Dad allowing me to get up early in the mornings whenever a big fight was on in America. The little radio I had was not very good in picking up a signal. Over a period of time I had tried it in every conceivable place in the house. However, the best place was halfway up the stairs with the wire Ariel being attached to the top of the hand rail. Because of the time difference with America most of the fights were on around 4am in the morning (UK time). Mum would set her alarm and usually get me up, she then went back to bed leaving me to my own devices. I loved listing but got a little annoyed as the signal kept fading badly.
..........Funny but it always seemed to fade just as something exciting seemed to be happening in the ring. I always like to listen in whenever the American Rocky Marciano (or Rocco Francis Marchegiano as he was christened) was fighting. I especially remember his memorable fight with the English guy Joe Cockle. To me Marciano was the best at the time, although some people say he was not a boxer more a street fighter. However there were not too many people around who could beat him because he eventually retired undefeated. Later I moved on to Sugar Ray Robinson and Floyd Patterson and then on to one of the all time greats Cassius Marcellus Clay.
..........Ivan Abbott, my cousin, came to stay at 67 Poplar Hill for the school summer holidays that year, and we slept in the same room so you can imagine the fun and games we got up to. Mother used to place a jerry pot (chamber pot) under the bed so we did not have to go down stairs to the toilet in the middle of the night. We used to try to fill it up as high as we could without it over flowing, so in the morning my Mother had problems walking down the stairs to empty it.
..........We usually joined up with Clive and the three of us would go down to the river, as Clive was still very interested in fishing. The place we would go bordered along the bottom of the local garden allotments near Boulters Bridge. We would usually pinch a few carrots and fruit anywhere we saw them growing, all great fun for young boys. However, we were chased off a couple of times, but it did not seem to deter us. It usually happened after people walking close by along the main road witnessed what we were doing. However, we never did get caught. I like to think we were just too smart and usually out witted them.
..........This school holiday was the last time I saw my favourite cousin Ivan. Upon leaving school, he joined the Royal Navy signing up for twenty-two years. After which he then immigrated to Australia, it was always my hope that one day we would once again meet up.